


A Woman of Some Dignity

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Diary/Journal, EWE, F/M, Leopard, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: That seemed to get his attention. “What are you—of course I respect you, you daft witch!”“Your actions today show the opposite!” I answered. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m a woman of some dignity and I’d like to shower in peace. You’ll kindly wait half an hour before Apparating back to my flat.”Hermione's not one for diaries, but it's been a week to say the least. It all started off with a confusing meeting with Draco Malfoy in her office, and... well, Hermione  thought maybe recording her thoughts on the events would help her process. She isn't wrong.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 70
Kudos: 200
Collections: Best of DMHG, Dramione RomCom Fest





	A Woman of Some Dignity

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DramioneRomComFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DramioneRomComFest) collection. 



> This piece was written for the Dramione RomCom Fest hosted by QuinTalon and NuclearNik. They are amazing creators and and writers themselves, and it was such an honor to participate! My RomCom was "Bringing Up Baby", starring Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn. It's hilarious, and I had such fun creating my spin on this story. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Many thanks to my alpha and beta team including QuinTalon, Frumpologist, and dreamsofdramione. You're all wonderful and so encouraging and this piece wouldn't be what it is without you! 
> 
> No copyright infringement intended in the writing of this story, and I made no profit off of this. This was written for fun.

* * *

Whereas I, Hermione Jean Granger, am of sound mind, am perfectly all right, and, honestly have never been better. 

Whereas this is a recording of peculiar events. One peculiar event. Singular occurrence from today only. Hopefully. 

Whereas—

Merlin, this is ridiculous. I am being ridiculous. 

I’m not a diary sort of person. They’re not to be depended on for sound facts, accuracy, or impartiality. And then, of course, I’m still leery of such things after the events surrounding second year with Tom Riddle’s diary and the Chamber of Secrets. Today’s events seem to justify such extreme measures for sorting my thoughts. Harry would tease and ask what I’m feeling over it, too. He’d probably natter on about how I pushed for him and Ron to be more aware of people and their feelings. 

Feelings are useless. I’ve learned this over the years. No matter what one feels, the right thing to do is always put it in perspective and carry on. Regardless of joy, sorrow, pain, or loss. 

Mum and Dad are still living well enough in Australia, unaware they have a daughter. That’s fine. They’re safe. No need to have a weekly cry over missing them. Wishing I’d hear from them on my birthday—

See?! Ridiculous. 

I don’t need to journal. 

I can reason through today on my own. No journal. 

* * *

Apparently I can’t. 

I can’t move on from this afternoon. It’s so odd. I can’t stop thinking of it. 

I’m forced to write to process, then. 

So, what information do you need before we begin, dear Diary? You already know I’m Hermione Granger. I am twenty-eight years-old, and it has been nearly ten years since the end of the Second Wizarding War. As you know from my above outburst that I should probably mark out later (or not, since I’ll likely burn this after I’ve sorted myself out), my parents live in Australia. They don’t know they have a daughter. I live in a cozily, yet modernised cottage in West Sussex, and I remember my parents daily. I think of how Dad would approve of the foundation and “sound structure.” I think how Mum wouldn’t say it aloud, but I’d be able to tell in the way she’d look and smile that she’s sad I’m not married. Not even dating. 

Which is fine. That’s fine. I’m not lacking for not having a romantic dalliance at the moment. I’m perfectly fine. 

I’m a Magizoologist. I now work with Rolf Scamander and Luna Lovegood Potter for a small business that studies, documents, and publishes findings on Beasts, Beings, and all Magical Creatures. It was plain to see that after seven years working for the Ministry of Magic, I was nowhere near making the difference I wanted. It’s more research and hands-on field study with Luna and Rolf. There’s travel involved, but I live close enough to lots of woods and parks, too. So, work is good. 

No, work is everything. I’m always ready to be where I’m needed, to write the next book or article for The Journal of Beasts and Creatures as Rolf asks. I write proposals for the Ministry and am hired as a private consultant by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures review bills going to the Wizengamot. It’s fulfilling and rewarding. 

I’m not lonely, Mum. Or dear Diary. Whomever I’m telling this to, I am not lonely. 

That’s out of the way. 

It’s Sunday, and I was in the office sorting out files and notes when Draco Malfoy popped by looking for me. It’s not an unusual occurrence to attempt for organisation before the start of the week, and it’s not even that unusual for Draco to appear unannounced. He does that. Often. Quite often. 

He’ll frequently appear on-site while I’m tracking something down. Trekking through forests, hiking across hillsides, whistling his way about some meadow. Even wading through swamps. He’s always ready for an excuse with some ingredient for an obscure potion, and I never question him. He’s spent years working on his Mastery in Potions. He’s brilliant with them, but never seems to take anything too seriously. Always wants to have a lark, or smirk, or cause some sneaky mischief. He doesn’t get in the way of my work, so I never mind it. He’s long since apologised for everything during Hogwarts years, and is decent company. 

(In the spirit of complete disclosure, I should note that he’s grown into his sharp features. Less pointy and angled as an adult and more lean and taught. Strong jaw and looks like he takes frequent walks about the country. And still keeps up with flying. He also wears glasses now. Says they help his eyes as he reads in low lighting a great deal. They’re rather attractive and bring out the Ravenclaw in him. I’ll come back and mark this observation out later. Or not, as I’ll be burning you at some point tonight, Diary.) 

So, back to the present: a Sunday afternoon at the office isn’t uncommon, and neither is the unannounced appearance of Draco. 

It’s the manner of the appearance today, you see. And how odd he insisted on acting while at the office. It seemed a matter of great urgence I have tea with him. When I told him I needed to keep working, but said we could try for tea sometime later in the week, he was almost pacified—until trying to determine the specific day. 

“Tomorrow?” he asked. 

I shook my head. “Not tomorrow. There’s the meeting with the Centaur representatives. It seems the Black Forest is infested with a sort of moss that lets off the vilest of odors and they’d like—”

“Never mind. Keep the Centaurs happy. Tuesday?” 

“Already scheduled a meeting and all day exploration of the Black Forest with Hagrid and Professor Longbottom to study the aforementioned moss.” 

“You can’t do that on Monday after you meet with the Centaurs?” He adjusted his glasses, sounding skeptical. 

“Not at all,” I insisted. “I’ll need the evening to plan for Tuesday. How to be both efficient and effective in our search. Besides, it’s some anniversary or other for Neville and his wife. I’m lucky I could get him to agree to Tuesday at all.” 

It was then Draco muttered something under his breath while removing his glasses and wiping the lenses with his jacket. I couldn’t catch it, and he didn’t repeat himself when I asked. He moved on to Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. It’s simply not my fault no day will work for tea the rest of the week either.

“What do you mean it’s not your fault?” He seemed rather put out at this point. Incredulous. Well above and beyond annoyed. 

“It isn’t my fault, Draco,” I answered calmly. “There’s an unknown something that’s been disturbing folds of Highland Cattle across the isles, and I’m to join Luna and Rolf in their watch after this mess of the moss is cleared up. Next week perhaps?” 

He wasn’t happy. I know he wasn’t because of the twitch of his muscle near his left eye. It’s the sign of a Draco fighting to maintain composure and failing miserably. But his voice remained even and friendly enough when he agreed on next week. 

I told him goodbye and I’d see him later (I’m actually counting on seeing him at some point while I’m out searching some lonely island in the Outer Hebrides; he’ll have an infallible reason for me, I’m sure), when the afternoon took a sudden turn for odd and unordinary. 

I turned around to continue about my work when my robes tore. 

Right up the middle. 

Yes, that is correct. 

Mortifyingly enough, my entire backside and most of my back was suddenly exposed to Draco Malfoy. 

“Merlin, Granger! I’m so sorry! I hadn’t realised I was standing on your robes!” 

“It’s fine, Draco,” I told him. And it was. It was. It is.

Accidents happen and I grabbed for the tear quickly enough after turning around. I would have preferred vanishing through a large hole in the ground at that moment, but Apparition would have worked. 

If Draco hadn’t been so… so… 

You know I don’t know what he was. I’d say he was flustered, but that’s ridiculous. It’s not as if a plain pair of black cotton knickers is enough to set anyone off. My back is ordinary enough, and I wasn’t wearing some scandalous printed bra-strap to gape at (because robes are sufficient enough support for a Sunday afternoon when I’m not planning on seeing anyone else, thank you very much). 

All I’m able to say with any degree of certainty is that he was suddenly flushed and insisted on helping me fix it, or that he could purchase me an entirely new set. A new wardrobe if I wanted. Or that he could mend it himself. He became quite fixated on the task of mending the tear when I’d finally had enough.

“Actually, Draco, there’s something else I’d much prefer you do for me. Please.” 

“Anything! I’ll have it fixed in no time—”

“No, no. Something more fun than that. I was thinking more of a game.” 

He went very still and very quiet. Almost impossible to tell if he was breathing or not. And his face went from beet red to extremely pale. As if all the blood drained from his cheeks. 

“Game?” he asked, all breathless and deep. As a matter of fact, it was bordering on husky. 

Which had a pleasing effect on me. Almost distracted me from the fact I was in a compromising position. “Yes. See, I’ll close my eyes and even cover them with my hands. And then I count to ten. And while I’m counting, you’ll go away. Go far, far away.” 

Draco huffed and folded his arms across his chest. That displeased look settled across his features. “Well now, that’s silly. Where would I go? Why would I leave you hear with a torn robe and in distress and—“ 

I’d stopped listening then. Closed my eyes. Began counting. “One, two, three—” 

He made one of those low growls in the back of his throat, but I heard footsteps and the closing of my office door. 

He was gone when I stopped counting and opened my eyes. 

I was surprised it worked. 

The problem is, Diary, I’m not entirely _pleased_ that it did. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’m displeased that I feel anything at all over this interaction. 

And I think this has done nothing useful, so I won’t be bothering with recording anything more henceforth. 

Goodnight. 

* * *

Good morning, Diary. 

I haven't burned you yet, because I tossed and turned all night thinking of Draco. 

I’ve decided I’m sad the counting worked. 

I don’t like that it did. 

I don’t like it at all. 

I don’t know _why_ I don’t like this. 

I also don’t like that I don’t know why I don't like it. 

Ugh. It’s useless recording all of this, because I’m no closer to answers even now. 

I want answers, because this is distracting me from getting ready for work. I keep seeing the flash of hurt in Draco’s eyes behind innocent frames as I kept having reasons to not have tea this week. The displeasure in his stance when I suggested my game that resulted in him leaving. 

I’m—

Sad. 

A little bit sad. And this is nothing to be sad about. I’ve experienced far worse that deserves such emotion. 

Not this. 

Must get ready for work now. 

* * *

I have a problem. Several problems, actually. 

I haven’t burned you by now, Diary. I thought about it at work, but you were left here at the desk in my bedroom, and some part of me wonders if I subconsciously orchestrated that. If I draw some semblance of satisfaction in writing out my thoughts. I don’t want to like this, but some facts simply speak for themselves. 

This is now my fourth entry in two days, and I’m truly no closer to determining why I’m feeling strange, and the meaning behind these last two strange days. It’s only logical to conclude I find something comforting or soothing in this. 

So then, without further ado: Draco’s reactions yesterday puzzle me. Today’s puzzle me even more. 

All of Monday and no Draco. No letter, missive, or note. Not even a single bloody interruption to my day. None of this is completely unusual. We do go through several day stretches at a time without communicating. I should not have feelings remotely related to sadness over today. 

I do, though. Very much so. Especially after he made such a fuss over making tea work this week yesterday. 

Eleven owls were delivered to Rolf’s office this morning, and two were delivered to Luna’s. Eleven and two. I know because I kept count. I counted each one because each one was an owl not from Draco to me. It’s infuriating that I kept count all morning and early afternoon before my meeting with the Centaurs. It’s embarrassing how quickly I snatched at all five owls I received today, believing each one to be from Draco, and telling myself he could easily be using a Ministry owl if he’s already there on business today… 

But no. 

All total, that’s eighteen times something inside me sank today. 

This is why I don’t like or do emotions. 

I should burn you now and be done with this. 

I think I shall, right after dinner. 

* * *

Tuesday morning, and clearly I didn’t burn you last night. Nor did I tear you into dozens of tiny pieces. 

Not only so, but still nothing from Draco. 

A bit of self-reflection has me realising I’m in a foul disposition this morning. Perfect. Happy Tuesday. 

This is precisely what I need before an outing with the Centaurs, Hagrid, and Neville. 

Wonderful. 

I blame Draco entirely. 

* * *

I was right to blame Draco! And I don’t know why I fancied myself sad or missing him at all now! 

AT. ALL. 

Tonight is all his fault. And I’m sure Theo’s predicament is all his, too. I was looking forward to a proper night’s sleep after hours of trekking through the forest today. No idea what weather conditions will be like tomorrow, all I ever really know is: plan for the worst when hiking through the Outer Hebrides. Or at least the windiest. And to get soaked in a sudden downpour or from the sea. 

Apparently sleep is too much to ask for when it comes to Draco and Theo. 

Right, then. I’d made it back into my office when the Floo was dinging. Rolf and Luna aren’t in town, so of course I answered it. (You’ll be shocked to discover who the caller was…) 

“Granger! Have you got a leopard about?” Draco demanded. 

Colour me shocked and bewildered at this point in time. “What in the name of—no! I haven’t got a leopard. Our offices are not a zoo.” 

“But you’re a Magizoologist, and there’s a leopard in my flat. I need you to come over and help me.” 

What else was there to do but immediately Floo to his flat? Which I did. With such a speed I nearly landed on top of him—and he had the nerve to inform me I’m cleaning the mess of soot and ash and powder. 

“Never mind the mess, Draco!” I began shaking the aforementioned mess from the Floo off my robes (honestly, so very Dickensian, and I wish he would adjust his wards so I would never worry if I’ll make it into his flat or not). “You said you’ve got a leopard, and I came. Where is it?” 

“It’s a he. And he is Theo.” 

“Theo? As in—” 

“As in one Theodorre Nott Jr.” Draco nodded, something mischievous that I didn’t like glinting in his eyes. But maybe that was a reflection of the light over his glasses. “He’s been working on Transfiguration and can’t change back.” 

“Oh dear.” And oh dear was right. I truly was expecting a mess of a job, but at just that moment, a perfect leopard waltzed into the room. A magnificent form, really. Brilliant spots, perfect coat, swishing tail, strong muscles. I wouldn’t know it to be Theo at all on first glance if it weren’t for the piercing blue eyes. 

He let me pet him and coo and make a fuss. Actually, he was rather insistent. I kept petting him because he would nudge and bump my hand when I tried to stop to talk to Draco. It was something fun to have a laugh at in the midst of this mess. Draco was far from amused, though. 

“You’re the expert here,” he said sharply. “Change him back.” 

“Change him—I’ve no means of—What precisely do you think I do and know, Draco?” My irritation wasn’t helping anyone, but it was hard to not be incredulous. _Honestly._

He shrugged, slipping his hands in his pocket. “You know magical creatures. He’s a wizard trapped in animal form. Fix him and then join me for dinner.” 

“You haven’t eaten yet? This late in the night?” I didn’t give him a second look from my studyings of Theo in leopard form. Perhaps some part would be human enough to work out a reversal… I could feel the heat of impatience from Draco’s stare all the while. 

“There have been more pressing matters this evening. Namely, one TheoLeopard, which you can take care of in no time, leaving us the rest of the night for a celebratory dinner.” 

My gaze jerked up to him then. “Are you quite well? Truly. Are you of your sound mind at this moment?” 

“Of course I am.” He puffed up his chest, obviously offended by my inquiry. “Fit as can be and never better. I don’t have a potion on hand to help Theo, and it could take up to a few days to brew one. I summoned you to see if you could be of immediate assistance, because you’re clever enough to have some idea.” 

“Well, you’re right about that,” I said, sighing and getting to my feet. Theo nudged me, so I continued to pet his head, earning a narrow glare from Draco. Whatever. “He’ll have to wait for you to brew the potion.” 

“What?! Don’t you know a spell or charm or… something?!” 

“I do.” I nodded, beginning to make my way back to the fireplace, Theo following closely. “There are two spells that can force a person out of transfiguration, but they’re both risky, fiddly, and arguably unethical.” 

“Un. Ethical.” I didn’t have to look back at him to know his eye was twitching. The twitch was evident from his screech. “Look here, Granger. He’s stuck as a leopard, and I can’t change him tonight. I’m hungry, and you must be famished, so hang ethics and change him back so we can eat!” 

I stopped. Turned on my heel. Met his steel grey eyes. 

“No.” I laid my palm flat on Theo’s furry head. “I’m not risking hurting our friend. Your potion will work with his magic, to encourage it in the right direction. If he’s stuck, he’s obviously making attempts at turning back and failing, and a potion will aid in his magic. My interference could work against anything he’s trying and some part of him could remain permanently in leopard form, OR I could splinch him while returning him back. So, no. I am not doing anything here tonight.” 

Something flashed in his eyes, like small sapphires in swirls of molten metal. Something that made me shiver, but not in a chill. Something I don’t know that I like. He shoved at his glasses as his lips parted. “What are you going to do then?” 

“I’m using your fireplace to go back to my office to pick up my things, and then I’m going home and going to bed.” 

“You’re leaving? And, and… you can’t just sleep without eating. Honestly, Granger.” He marched toward Theo and I, shaking his head. “You don’t even eat a proper breakfast, and I know there’s nothing more you need at the office, is there?” 

“My briefcase.” I held his gaze, not backing down.

“Don’t need it.” He gave another shake of his head. “You’re hiking all day tomorrow, so you’ll have your field pack.”

“Fine. I’m picking up paperwork to look over tonight in bed—”

“Wrong, wrong, wrong.” He was somehow right up on me then, reaching over the leopard between us and closing his fingers around my wrist. 

(Side note that I shall mark out later, because I might as well admit that I have no idea when I’ll be burning you, dear Diary: Draco has perfect hands. Long, slender fingers that appear to be made to play the concert piano. Or perform surgery. He brews amazing potions instead, and his fingertips are slightly calloused from cutting, slicing, pounding, and collecting of his own ingredients. They’re symbols of what I admire in him. Why we’ve formed this odd friendship over the years.) 

Back to those fingers around my wrist, it made me feel something. Something I hadn’t felt in a very long time. Not since… Ron, I suppose. The something wasn’t at all groundbreaking or earth shattering or melt-me-to-goo on the spot. Just enough to have all air vanish from my lungs, to feel as if a cage of Cornish Pixies had been loosed inside me, and look right into his eyes again as if I would never look away. 

Funny thing, his voice seemed to have dropped after touching me, too. 

“You’re getting a proper night’s sleep,” he continued. “No arguments. Chamomile tea or some hot chocolate to settle the nerves when you get home, but you’re stuck with us until Theo’s back to form, and tomorrow’s a long day of walking. No work in bed tonight. Only sleep.” 

I liked being taken cared of. 

I hated it, too. 

Which is why I’ve fooled him. 

Because Draco and Theo are indeed sleeping at my flat tonight, but in my bedroom while I have taken the sofa. I was rather insistent after they arrived. They’re locked away in my room while I have you, Diary, and my entire bookshelf at my disposal. 

It’s nice to end the day on a win. 

* * *

Disaster. 

It’s all been a disaster. 

Stealing away from the most meddlesome cat in all of history and his caretaker for a moment. Supposedly, I’m meant to be relieving myself, but who could think about that after the morning it’s been?! 

Theo as a wizard is full of mischief and dramatic flair. He finds a way to get into everything and make it all his business. Theo as a leopard is no different. 

He stalked and chased innocent rabbits and squirrels, dashed off to climb distant rock faces and the lone tree, swiped at birds, and chased the fold of Highland cattle! The very folds I’m to be watching! 

I’ll say it once more for good measure: D I S A S T E R ! 

* * *

Home now, and the day fared no better. 

Draco decided to go off looking for some rare potion ingredients without telling me, and apparently left Theo under my watch. I was testing the air and ground in a particular area, as I’m curious if there could be a Demiguise afoot. Impossible and improbable, I know. But I have to rule everything out, and I’ve definitely found hints of something about. 

(I also suspect pixies or fairies may be at mischievous work with the fold, and if that’s the case, this may very well be more Luna or Rolf’s area of expertise.)

Back to Theo: he was left under my care, while I was blissfully unaware of this. 

He went off and somehow got himself caught in a pond.

No, I’m not joking.

I was looking about, and thinking I might possibly have found something behind a rock when this very loud, very feline roar erupted from some distance. I hadn’t been aware Draco had taken off, and therefore had no idea if Theo was alone or with him, or if either of them were in trouble. So I took off running. There was no way of knowing at first if it was the right direction—blustery day and wind carrying sound and all—but thankfully, Theo made another distressing sound. 

Though, I nearly laughed in my relief upon finding him. In a pond. 

He was rather uncooperative in answering questions of how he’d gotten himself stuck, leaving me to conclude he must have tried fishing and fallen in. And was stuck in thick mud. Poor fellow kept trying to move and just wasn’t making any progress at all. There was nothing left to do but attempt to cast a few warming charms over myself and him, and try to help him out. 

Literally.

Field pack discarded and sleeves rolled up, I entered the pond. The frigid pond. With thick, thick mud. Making it to Theo was a struggle. Finding a means of pushing and helping him out was even harder. It was only after reaching him, I realised my wand was in my field pack on the shore and not in my back pocket. My wandless magic wasn’t nearly strong enough to release him with a levitating spell…

It’s no use rehashing it all now, it only makes me angry all over again, and I’m supposed to be using this time to get over being angry. To cool off. 

Because that was ridiculous.

After some doing, Theo and I both made it back to shore, with me looking like a drowned rat, I’m sure, with water and mud sufficiently covering my clothes, hair, and face. 

Draco found us at just that time, and had begun to laugh. Laugh, dear Diary. 

_Laugh._

At me and my work and all I do. 

I’m a joke to him. Little more than a hired entertainer who tracks down invisible creatures, or ones so small it’s near impossible to know if they’re involved in mischief or not. One who failed at a respectable Ministry job and joined forces with… with… 

I can’t say. Because I don’t think of Rolf and Luna as anything less than brilliant and splendid people. But proper society will always have thoughts and whispers about them. 

And—and—now to know… that’s all Draco thinks of me, too. 

I lost it once I’d collected my wand and field pack. Absolutely lost it. 

“Shut it! Shut it right now! You could be scaring off whatever I’ve been looking for today.” 

He didn’t cease laughing. In fact, my order seemed to inspire a fresh burst of laughter as he said, “Between all that splashing and flailing and falling, you and Theo have already done that.” 

Dunno how I caught all that while he laughed and laughed, but that’s when I gave no room for quarter. I marched right up to him, right up in his face, shoving a finger into his chest. “You may think little of my job, but I thought you at least respected me by this point!” 

That seemed to get his attention. “What are you—of course I respect you, you daft witch!” 

“Your actions today show the opposite!” I answered. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m a woman of some dignity and I’d like to shower in peace. You’ll kindly wait half an hour before Apparating back to my flat.” 

So. That’s what he’s doing. That’s where we are. 

I really don’t know how I’ll face him in five minutes from now. 

* * *

It’s quite late now, but that doesn’t matter. 

I don’t want to forget this conversation with Draco. 

He waited the full half hour, but I didn’t leave my room for another twenty minutes after he and Theo arrived. I was quiet making my way to the sitting room. 

He was standing. Looking nervous. Confused. Unsure. “Do you want me to go home?” he asked softly. 

“No.” I shook my head. I meant it. 

A single pale blond brow arched. As if he didn’t believe me. “No?”

“No. You can stay.” I sighed and tugged several clean, but still damp, curls behind my ear. “Both of you can stay again. We’re all hungry and I can order takeout. Theo can come with me again tomorrow while you work on his potion. He can stay as long as you need him to.” 

“Oh…” 

He didn’t say anything more for what seemed like forever. Neither did I. Draco must have cleaned Theo before coming over, and the poor darling must have been exhausted. He was already stretched out over by the fireplace. Eyes closed, purring softly. 

I padded towards the kitchen. Draco followed. 

“You’ve had a bad day,” he murmured. 

“That’s a masterpiece of an understatement,” I snorted, not bothering to keep quiet. 

A sharp inhale. A holding of said inhale. “Reckon I’ve a large role to play in that.” Slow exhale. 

Draco can be so dramatic while getting to the point sometimes. 

“Yes and no.” I filled the kettled, started the stovetop, and summoned two mugs from the cabinet. “I’m not usually with friends while working, and I can’t say I remember the last time I giggled so much at work. But then again, it didn’t feel like a day of work either.” 

“You had fun, though? Fun with me?” 

“And Theo,” I added.

Which Draco didn’t seem to care for. He dropped his eyes and began adjusting his glasses, lips folded into a tight line all the while. 

The angry whistle of the kettle broke our silence this time, and he moved to grab tea bags from the counter for our cups. 

I poured the water over them and slid Draco the sugar. 

“I respect you, Granger,” he said while I grabbed the cream from the fridge. “And your work. I wouldn’t have asked for your help with Theo or anything else if I didn’t.” 

That stopped me. Because… “When have you asked for my help before, Draco?” 

“Loads of times.” He began dumping sugar and cream into his tea like this was a common, well-known fact. As if noting water is wet or my bookcase has books. “Even back when you worked at the Ministry, I sought your professional council.” 

“Even when—no you did not! I think I would have known if—when and what, Draco Malfoy?” 

“There was the time I asked about the laws of Doxy wings versus fairy wings. There was the time I asked if you were still looking into writing a law against using fairy wings, since I found the same results could be achieved by using old dragon scales and small quantities of lavender. Then there was the series of months I hounded you for questions about the mass producing and distribution of Wolfsbane until you handed over the bill for me to see for myself—I’m still working on how it can be done cheaper and distributed safer, by the way. There was the other time when I needed—” 

I stopped him there, though. Covered his mouth with my hand. “All right.” Our gazes locked together and he froze under my touch. I licked my lips. “All right. Point made. I remember all that, too. And if you say today wasn’t a grand scheme to undermine my work, I believe you.” 

I dropped my hand and stepped away, adding two splashes of cream to my tea. I could be wrong, but I thought I caught Draco’s arm floating up and out, as if to take hold of something. My wrist? My arm? My hand? But, I turned around to grab a spoon from the drawer and nothing happened. 

His arm was back at his side by the time I looked back. I probably imagined it. (Which is silly. Why would I imagine Draco wanting to hold some part of me? Marking that inquiry out later, by the way.) 

“It wasn’t. I swear to you, Granger, it wasn’t.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

We exchanged a few more ‘Okays’ before taking sips of tea.

Then Draco gave me the greatest shock I’ve had in a long time. A long, long time. 

He looked right at me, as if looking into me. As if searching for a secret. And asked: “Do you have something against fun? Or fun with friends? Or friends in general for that matter?” 

I sputtered. And nearly dropped my tea. 

Because… 

Really. 

That’s preposterous. 

I told him exactly that. 

Only he started to shake his head. “No, it isn’t. You rarely attended gatherings you were invited to when you worked for the Ministry—

“—Because I was busy trying to—”

“—Trying to write laws so that they could be passed,” he finished for me, not breaking his keen stare. “I know. You’ve told me before. Working with Rolf was supposed to change all that, though. You told everyone it would free up time. You told me that it would free up time for fun and things. But you haven’t changed. You don’t join in on pub nights and rarely attend the occasional dinner gathering. When you do come to pick-up Quidditch matches, you read most of the time.” 

“That’s not fair.” My jaw tightened, even as something twisted and squirmed deep inside my chest. “I’ve attended all the Ministry hosted gatherings, I go to the birthday parties, and we’ve done lots—Merlin, Draco. I have work. I go to all the blasted parties and weddings and birthdays because people keep finding things to celebrate. I see you and Theo and have tea with your mother every quarter. I bloody allow Harry and Ron to get away with the occasional surprise party for my birthday, but that’s never enough! Does no one else understand what I do is important to me? That I want to make a difference beyond that miserable war? That I need my magical life to count for more than the past?” 

He was touching me next. I don’t know how it happened, but one second I’m miles away from Draco, trying to explain how irritating my life and friends are, and the next, I’m being held. 

Well, my elbows at least. 

He was holding me by the elbows and it was the warmest I’d felt in so, so long. So very, very long. 

“It’s not that, love. Not at all.” His voice was gentle. So gentle and understanding and kind. Like something from a dream. “But you never seem happy. It’s all obligation for you.” 

“It isn’t.” I shook my head. Hard. 

His answering smile was warm, heating a thousand embers inside me. “It feels like it. Not always, but most of the time. Like none of it makes you happy. Not even work and accomplishments.” 

I scoffed. Rolled my eyes like a child. But… really… “I don’t care about being happy. Not anymore. Not since—” My voice broke then, and stupid, stupid, stupid. How can I still have tears to cry over that?

_How?!_

“Not since your parents?” Draco supplied, hands tracking up and down my arm. Soothing, Caring. Warm.

“And Ron,” I added, wishing I could look away. Hide from the truth. Lock it away and never think on it again. 

His eyes widened, hands falling away. He drew a sharp breath. 

“Granger. He’s married, and you… you still… after all this time?” 

“Not like that, Draco. I let go of feelings like that a long time ago.” 

“Then I don’t—I don’t understand.” His brow furrowed and he stepped back towards me. “Your break up wasn’t bad or dramatic or long. It was barely covered at the time. No scandal, and the two of you have been mostly fine since. You even told me it was amicable and for the best.” 

“Breakups aren’t something you can compare and rate like two different pairs of shoes in Witch Weekly.” I may have snapped and spoken more harshly than I should have, but boiling blood and rising temper and all. “No, there wasn’t a massive fight or colossal scandal of infidelity, but it still hurt. We ended an eleven month relationship and changed an eight year friendship irrevocably the first anniversary of the day I Obliviated my parents.”

That stunned him. Enough for me to move. Enough for me to get around him and grab my tea and make for the safety of the sitting room. Where Theo would be and there wouldn’t be all this blasted privacy. 

“I’m sorry, Granger. I didn’t know.” 

Of course he didn’t.   
  
Idiot. 

My idiot friend, though. And guest I still had to order takeout for. 

“I never said.” I paused and looked at him over my shoulder. “We’ve all been hurt in our own ways after the war. I never said because I still have work. There’s still good I can do, even in the smallest of ways. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Didn’t scar me, and leave me feeling I should run at the first sign of anything deeper. Anything happy. Because it can all be taken away.” 

* * *

I fell asleep before finishing up last night, Diary. Sorry. 

Not that there was too much else to say. 

Draco said some things like “still have to live” and “can’t give up on trying.” 

Nothing I haven’t heard before. 

Nothing I haven’t felt before either. 

Oddly enough, it’s what I feel around him. And about him. 

When I let myself think on what I’m feeling—which isn’t often. 

I woke to a very human Theo sitting over my blanket at the foot of the sofa. He was smiling. 

“Thanks for the bed and food,” he said. “I’ll take my leave for you two to work things out. Thank you for taking such good care of me, my lady.” 

“Were you really stuck?” It may have been early, but I was beginning to smell something funny about the past couple of days. 

Theo confirmed my suspicions with a dark chuckle. “Well, what is stuck? Who is to define the difference in stuck via magic, or by loyalty and choice for romance?” 

“Romance?!” I croaked. 

“Romance.” Theo winked, standing and pulling out his wand. “As in love, Hermione, dearest. And now, if you’ll excuse me…” 

He vanished, Disapparating on the spot without another word. 

Leaving me alone. With a sleeping Draco. 

…

And no choice other than to leave Draco a note in the kitchen that he should help himself… And get ready for the day with my emergency kit in my office.

Cowardly, I know. I don’t care. 

But, also… I care. 

It’s all confusing, Diary. I don’t like it, and yet… 

I don’t dislike it as much as I should. 

Which is why I needed space and left and why I can’t bring myself to leave the office. I keep finding things to do. Things to keep me here. 

Just in case...

* * *

I am still a coward, or maybe not quite so much anymore. 

I lingered in the office another half hour. Hoping. I tried telling myself I didn’t know what I hoped for, but that was a lie. 

I knew. 

For the first time in a long while (or maybe not, now that I think of it) I was not disappointed. 

Draco came bursting through the office door as I was coming up to the front to replace the magazines and periodicals… 

I turned and ran the moment our eyes met. 

Ran all the way to my private office. Closed the door and sank to the floor. 

Draco wasn’t far behind. “I’m here to talk with you, Granger, and you can stay in your office if you want.” 

“Okay. I believe I will. Thank you.” I don’t know why I added the last bit, but I did… and… Oh dear… What a mess I seemed to have made. 

“Right then. So, I’m going to ask you the obvious question first: why did you run?” 

“When?” 

“What do you mean, ‘when’? Just now when—or was this morning running away, and you’re therefore counting it as a when?” 

I huffed, more watery and less indignant than I wanted. “Does it matter, Draco?” 

“I don’t know. You’ll have to tell. But for now I mean just now. You saw me and ran across the hallway for the safety of your office. I presume your door is locked, too, isn’t it?”

It was, but I didn’t feel like admitting that. “Same reason I left you with a note about buns in the cupboard this morning and how to warm them and make tea.” Seems I felt like getting to the point and ignoring the locked door comment. 

No explanations for myself. I don’t understand either. 

Neither did Draco. “Same reasons for both, then. Okay. I’ll—I suppose that’s good. If maybe you could enlighten me as to the why of both.” 

“Why?” 

“Because it matters. You matter, Granger. This, all of this between us matters. To me. Very much.” 

I think my heart stopped then. Maybe the world stopped, too. There’s no way to prove that, though, so I’ll leave the stopping as only applicable to myself. And starting, because one moment my heart ceased beating, and the next it was racing. Pounding against my breastbone. “If you must know,” I started. Then paused. Then pressed on. “It’s because I’m afraid of you.” 

Draco went quiet. For a very long stretch after that. A span of time that felt endless. “You’re afraid. Of me? You, Hermione Granger, you’re afraid of me.” 

I swallowed hard, leaning my head against the door. “That’s what I said.” 

“I’m afraid I’m going to need clarification, love.” 

Love. This was his second use of that term. For me. With me. 

And I just… 

It gave me courage to talk. To let it all out. 

“Because you’ve been this constant when I’ve kept everyone boxed carefully. For years now. I attend the majority of social obligations so no one can complain I’m distant or busy, and you ruin that. And not in small ways, no. They’re always big things where things seem to happen.” 

“Things? What things?” 

“Too many things!” I raked a hand through my curls. Then the other. And squeezed my eyes shut tight. “There was that golf catastrophe at the Balgrove Course of St Andrews seven years ago, then that disaster at the Ministry Christmas party six years ago. You know what you did at my birthday party five years ago, then the spectacle you made with us dancing at yours the year after that. There was the incident at Harry and Luna’s three year anniversary two years ago, Blaise’s wedding last year and now—now! This week. With leopard Theo? Was he truly stuck or was it all a ruse?” 

It was silent and still for so long I thought he’d left. I knocked on the door, not ready to open it yet. “Draco? Are you still there?” 

“I’m here. Rolf walked in while you were explaining and…” He stopped talking. Didn’t talk again for several beats of heavy silence. Sighed before speaking again. “I never realised I’d become such a nuisance.”

“Incredibly so.” I started to suspect I’d hurt him, and… well… That wouldn’t do. It simply wouldn’t. 

Because I realised I wasn’t mad at him. Not truly. 

Just scared by the changes he brought to my life. 

And scared to lose him if I didn’t change my tone. 

My words softened as I closed my fingers around the doorknob. This was a secret. Just for him. “It’s annoying because I’ve worked so, so hard to be as hands off as possible, and you’ve undone it all. Invaded my life with your friendship. Changed me so I find myself wanting you. Wanting more time with you. Making it so I don’t want to go back to life without you constantly there. With me and for me. And that makes me afraid.”

“Well. I hear that. But… D’you think you could summon enough bravery to open this door? At least unlock it for me?” 

I already was, but wanted to hear from him. Wanted to be certain before I removed my last line of defense between us. “What will happen if I do?”

Draco laughed. Something husky and breathy. “I think I’ll be kissing you first, if you’re all right with that. And after you’ve decided you’ve had enough of that, I’d like to tell you how you’ve changed me. I’ve been aching to tell you things and have a defined future with you for ages, love. Could you try to give me a chance?” 

My hand is cramping and the fact that I’m having to rush to finish this entry now should suffice in saying I not only unlocked the door, I opened it. He came in, and for the sake of being thorough, didn’t just kiss me. He snogged me quite breathless. It was… perfect. Sheer perfection, actually. 

Marvelous and unlike anything I thought I could ever feel again. 

Until Theo arrived, hands in his pockets, whistling as he strutted about. Like the smug, obnoxious cat he is. I believe I caught him muttering something about, “finally!” before Draco kicked my office door shut and resumed the kissing. Not much talking happened in my office.

I still don’t know what Theo was doing at the office. Or why Rolf came back. I shouted out in the hallway I was taking a personal day and Apparated Draco and I back to my flat. Not for anything salacious as I explained to Draco, but because I needed to shower and change into something proper for a date. And write this out and process.

I like this. This change. 

I want this. All of it. 

I want the brunch Draco’s promised me and all the talking we didn’t do in my office. And I should probably should tell you, dear Diary, I don’t think I’ll burn you after all. I don’t think I ever disliked you or this notion of writing out my thoughts.

I was scared. And resistant to change. 

And in love, and too stupid to see. 

I’m quite happy with the results of journaling this week. Very happy indeed. 

Ta!


End file.
